


feels like the first time

by mixtapestar



Series: a promising vacation [5]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Amnesia, Blow Jobs, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: A jealous ex-lover tries to hit Eliot with a spell to make him forget Quentin. It doesn't work out exactly how he'd hoped.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: a promising vacation [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964122
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	feels like the first time

**Author's Note:**

> For Comfortween Day 18: Who are you again? (amnesia)
> 
> Further warnings: A character uses magic to manipulate Eliot's memories. Eliot has sex with Quentin in this altered state. For the full, spoiler-filled warning, scroll to the end notes. Please take care of yourself!
> 
> Thanks to Rubi & Hoko for your support! <3

Eliot literally floats back to the cottage after he completes his thesis defense. Weeks and weeks of research and experimentation and fucking _writing_ , ugh, finally complete, presented and approved.

"I did it," he says, bursting into Quentin's room and collapsing on his bed.

"I knew you would," Quentin says, leaning in to kiss him. Eliot tries to chase him as he pulls back, but he's too slow. "Congrats, El."

"What's all this?" he asks, realizing he's sharing the bed with lots of notes and books and Quentin's laptop.

Quentin laughs. "Well, those of us that _didn't_ have to stress for the past two and half months over a thesis project now have finals to make up for it. I really should've started studying at least a week ago. I'm so behind."

"I should leave you to it, then, so you can come down and celebrate with me tonight."

Quentin sighs. "I can't. I have to focus on this so I don't flunkout."

Eliot scoffs. "You're not going to flunkout. I can help, if you like. I promise not to be too distracting," he says, fluttering his eyelashes until Quentin smiles. "But tomorrow. Tonight, we party."

"I really am happy for you, El, but I can't tonight, not until I'm comfortable with physical manipulation spells. Can't you throw the party next week?"

"Of course I'll throw a party next week. And also tonight."

Quentin rolls his eyes and kisses Eliot. "I really have to study. I can't get drunk _or_ high, but I'll try to at least put in an appearance."

Eliot grins. "That's all I ask."

Eliot busies himself with party prep for the rest of the afternoon. He rearranges some of the furniture to provide better access to his mini-bar, and clears out half the fridge so he can pre-chill some glasses. He's working on garnishes for tonight's signature cocktails when a familiar face shows up in front of him. Randall, Eliot recalls. He'd called him 'Randy' most of the week they spent hooking up earlier this year, before he'd worked things out with Quentin.

"Gonna be another banner Waugh party tonight, huh?" Randall says, smirking. "Rare to see you these days without the boy attached to your hip."

"It's not my hip he's attached to," Eliot says, glancing up and waggling his eyebrows. Randall doesn't seem to appreciate the joke. "But yes, it'll be a celebration to remember. Invite a friend, have some fun."

"Maybe I'll have some fun with someone who's already here," Randall says at the same moment Margo returns from her shopping trip.

"Sure," Eliot says absently, striding over to Margo to tell her his good news. She shares in his delight and promises to help with the party, but first has to go change.

By the time Eliot gets back to the garnishes, he's forgotten about the conversation with Randall.

***

An hour in, and already Eliot's post-thesis party is hitting his top-five most successful parties. Everyone is happy, dancing, enjoying his cocktails, performing experimental magic tricks under the guise of "exam prep". Eliot really wants Quentin to join in; he resolves to go get him after he makes another round of drinks.

He enjoys another quick shot of tequila, feeling it simmer alongside his already-pleasant buzz as he starts putting together the ingredients for his own version of a Peach Gin Fizz. It's one of Quentin's favorites, and another crowd pleaser. He floats down another tray of glasses as he mixes, feeling happy in his element. He feels eyes on him, and looks up to see Randall back with him by the bar.

"Hey there," Eliot says, grinning. "Enjoying the night?"

"Just about to," Randall says, and pats Eliot on the shoulder.

"That's the spirit!" Eliot picks up the shaker, securing the lid and picking it up to mix the ingredients. He hesitates for a second, his head feeling weirdly cloudy for a moment, but he quickly recovers. Must've been that shot. "Hang out for a second and I'll have a fresh drink for you."

Randall winces, looking down at the bar. "Not really a peach fan myself." Eliot glances down as well. He can't remember why he'd decided to go with peach, actually. "Why don't you come dance with me?"

"Sure thing, just let me finish this round."

"Always gotta keep the masses entertained, huh?"

"I aim to please," Eliot says, grinning.

"Eliot!" Todd says, bouncing up to the bar with his expression over-eager as always. "Have you seen Quentin? I need to give him my notes from that lecture he missed in PA last week."

"Quentin?" Eliot repeats, emphasizing the 't'. He's pretty sure he'd remember a name like that.

"Ooh, this looks yummy!" Todd says, reaching for a glass.

Eliot grabs it back from him. "Not yet, you heathen. I haven't even added the club soda."

Todd shrugs. "I'll be back, then."

"Fucking Todd," Eliot mumbles, shaking his head. Randall suddenly seems in a very good mood, starting to talk Eliot's ear off about his latest endeavor to con first-years into doing his homework. Eliot's just about to ask how that's going to help with finals when he glances over at the stairs and sees a vision of a man walking down, a pen in his mouth and a book in his hand. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders, and he seems completely unfazed as he stares at his book while a party rages on around him. He's gorgeous.

"Excuse me," Eliot says, topping off two of his drinks with a peach slice and carrying them over to this newcomer.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Eliot asks, holding out one of the glasses and drawing the guy's attention away from his book.

The guy sighs, tucking his hair behind his ear. He places the pen inside his book and closes it before taking the glass. "Fine, but I can only have one."

Eliot smirks. He likes this guy's attitude already.

"Hang on," he says, narrowing his eyes. "This isn't, like, super strong or something, right?"

"Just the right amount of strong, trust me. It's an Eliot Waugh original."

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"I _like_ you," Eliot says, grinning. "What's your name?"

"Really? This is what we're doing?" Eliot frowns in confusion. If his flirtation is unwanted, there are better ways to fend him off. But then the corner of the guy's mouth quirks up and he goes on, "Okay, sure. I'm Quentin Coldwater."

"Quentin Coldwater," Eliot repeats delightedly.

Quentin takes a sip of the drink and utters a sound of pleasure that goes straight to Eliot's dick. "God, this drink is so good."

"I have my skills," Eliot says, pleased to find that this Quentin has no concept of personal space. "You know, I finished my thesis project today."

"I'd heard that," Quentin says, smirking.

"Really?" Eliot says. His reputation precedes him. His eye catches, then, on someone stalking toward them from across the room. Right, Randall. Shit. He'd promised him a dance. "Why don't we just step outside, enjoy these with some fresh air?" Eliot suggests, steering them the long way around so they get lost in the crowd before slipping out the back.

They find an undisturbed spot off the side of the deck, Quentin perching on the half-wall while Eliot hovers as close to him as he dares. Quentin seems to be very receptive to the light touches he's given him so far, contradicting the shy demeanor he seems to give off to the rest of the world.

"I'm really surprised I haven't seen you around before," Eliot says, reaching out to take a lock of Quentin's hair between his fingers.

"Right," Quentin says, leaning into his touch a little. "Well, they never really knew what to do with my discipline anyway. So I guess I've just been in like, the Illusionists' Castle?"

Eliot smirks. "You're not sure?"

"No, yeah, it was the Illusionists' Castle. They just transferred me here because, um, my talents were being wasted over there."

"No arguing that," Eliot says.

"Hang on, does this mean I get to tell you about the Fillory books and you won't roll your eyes and change the subject?"

"What are the Fillory books?" Eliot asks, fascinated by the weird way Quentin has of making conversation.

Quentin laughs delightedly and launches into a detailed explanation of these children's books that he apparently loves, talking animatedly with his hands and unwittingly turning Eliot on with the depth of his passion. Eliot listens intently but also carefully plots how he's going to take them to the next level as soon as Quentin stops for breath.

"Look, this is actually fun, but I really need to get back to studying," Quentin says, and Eliot pushes down on his disappointment. He takes a breath to assure Quentin that they can pick this up later, but Quentin keeps talking. "There's no one in that little nook next to the porch. Want me to blow you?"

Eliot's brain short-circuits for a second. How did he find this absolute treasure of a person? "God, yes," he says. His dick is already painfully pressing against the zip of his tight jeans. "Can I get your number, too, before I'm too far gone to remember to ask for it?"

Quentin raises his eyebrows at him. Oh, maybe this is a one-time thing for him. "Sure," Quentin says slowly, "I'll give it to you after."

Quentin laces his fingers with Eliot's, leading him to the aforementioned nook before pulling him into a kiss. As first kisses go, it's absolutely filthy, with Quentin licking into his mouth like he wants to devour him. Oh, Eliot is absolutely keeping this one. He spreads one hand over the back of Quentin's neck, so he can commit to the kiss, and with the other he slides under Quentin's shirt and spreads over his hip. Quentin is as into this as he is, even though he barely knows Eliot. He doesn't think he's ever had such an enthusiastic first-time partner before.

In the next moment, Quentin abandons the kiss, but only because he's moving gracefully to his knees, and _damn_ , he makes quite a picture, looking up at Eliot through his eyelashes.

Eliot reaches down to stop Quentin's hands on his fly. "It's okay if you wanna just stick to a handjob. Some people get… overwhelmed."

Quentin smirks wickedly and shoots him a wink. "Trust me, I think I can handle it."

And _god_ , true to his word, Quentin doesn't even flinch when he pulls down Eliot's pants and briefs, revealing the long, hard curve of his cock. If anything, he meets Eliot's gaze with a challenge, and then wraps those beautiful lips over Eliot's cock, taking him _impossibly deep_ in one smooth slide.

"Oh, _fuck_ , Quentin," Eliot says, sliding his fingers tentatively into Quentin's hair. Quentin gazes up at him, heat in his gaze that urges him on, pulling a little as he moves his hips and fucks into Quentin's mouth, crying out with how good it feels.

Quentin is _incredibly_ good, and it's almost embarrassingly fast before Eliot feels himself on the edge of coming. He warns Quentin, who just makes it better by sucking on the head of his cock, putting pressure just below the head until he shudders and comes into Quentin's welcoming mouth.

"Your mouth is a fucking gift," Eliot says, squeezing at Quentin's shoulder. "Please come up here and kiss me."

Quentin does, happily, pressing up against Eliot and letting him taste himself on Quentin's tongue as they kiss as filthily as they started.

A voice filters into his thoughts, "Oh, for _fuck's sake_ ," and Eliot blinks until he can focus on the shape of someone standing just outside their little nook. It's Randall, and he looks pissed. "Really? You don't even remember him, and you still choose him over me?"

"Don't be jealous, Randy," Eliot says, wrapping an arm around Quentin's middle so he won't go anywhere.

"Don't call me that. Here, have your _fucking_ memories back, you ingrate," he says, and works his fingers in an unfamiliar pattern before slapping Eliot on the shoulder and then stalking off.

"Ow," Eliot says, rubbing at his shoulder with his free hand. He looks back at Quentin, and suddenly he's flooded with memories—kissing, fucking, _being fucked_ by Quentin, every time as amazing as what they've just done. Deeper than that, there's the year and a half of pining, of hopes rising and falling, and finally working it out and metaphorically exchanging promise rings. "Q," he says as something settles in his chest, and he cups Quentin's jaw.

Realization is setting in Quentin's gaze, as he looks up at Eliot with wide eyes. "Oh god, you really didn't remember me, did you? Did I just, like, violate you?"

" _No_ , _god_ no. That was amazing, Q. Like, roleplaying turned up to eleven." He reaches a hand down to where he knows now, from experience, that Quentin is almost certainly hard already, just from sucking him off. "Can I get you off now? I promise I'll let you study after."

"I'm a little worried to leave you alone, now," Quentin murmurs, but he pushes into Eliot's palm. Eliot pulls down his zipper and gets a hand around his cock, reveling in the little whine Quentin makes when he touches him.

"God, it's wild to think I could see you and not know what you sound like when I touch you. You're so gorgeous, though, all confident for me."

"You came so _fast,_ " Quentin says, amazed, gasping a little as Eliot slicks up his hand with magic and comes back to stroking his cock. "I thought you were just, like, worked up by the roleplay."

"That's how hot you make me, baby," Eliot says shamelessly. It's no great surprise that stripping away his memories of Quentin also got rid of the resolute _tolerance_ he's had to build up, to keep him from just fucking coming in his pants at the sight of Quentin biting his own lip.

"So you really— _fuck_ —didn't recognize me at all?" Quentin asks, grabbing onto Eliot's shoulders and rutting up into his fist. "You just, what? Zeroed in on me randomly from across the room?"

"That's exactly what I did," Eliot says, leaning down to nudge his nose against Quentin's, breathe the same air, not-quite kiss him. With a whisper, he adds, "No matter the circumstances, I will always find you."

It's a little sentimental for a handjob on a random Saturday; Eliot blames the alcohol and the sudden influx of Quentin memories. It's true though. Randall could have been giving him a lap dance for all that he cared; it wouldn't have mattered. He only had eyes for Q.

For his part, Quentin whimpers and closes that tiny bit of distance to slot their lips together. Eliot mirrors the passion Quentin pours into the kiss, flicking his thumb against Quentin's frenulum to make him gasp. "With the way you just got me off, I feel like I should do more for you."

"Don't you dare stop," Quentin says. "Your hands are amazing."

God, even that makes Eliot's chest ache with affection, as he focuses on giving Quentin the best handjob of his life. He's unsure if he succeeds, but Quentin shouts his name when he comes, holding onto him for dear life, so either way he's happy with the results.

He tilts their foreheads together as he works Quentin through the aftershocks, marvelling at this wonderful man he gets to call his boyfriend. The memories are sharper, thanks to the magic, and Eliot can't help but run through them in his mind. Quentin taking care of him, making Quentin smile on a bad day, the two of them walking around campus talking about nothing. They'd made a commitment not to see other people, but this, the way he's feeling, is more than that. This is further than Eliot has ever gotten in a relationship, and it's both thrilling and terrifying.

Eliot performs the cleaning spell for both of them, and they take a moment to make themselves a little more presentable before moving back together in a sweet kiss. "Why don't we go back to your room?" Eliot suggests. "I'll help you study."

Quentin's eyebrows shoot up. "What about the party?"

Eliot shrugs. "I'd rather spend the time with you."

He's hit with the full force of Quentin's smile as he reaches for Eliot's hand and squeezes. "Okay, but I've gotta find Margo first," he says, pulling Eliot back toward the cottage.

"Sure," Eliot agrees, letting himself be led. "Why?"

"So I can ask her to magically castrate fucking _Randy_."

Eliot laughs, appreciating the sentiment. "She'll love that."

**Author's Note:**

> Full warnings: An original character hits Eliot with magic that makes him forget all his memories of Quentin, hoping to score with him with Q out of the picture. Eliot is drawn to Quentin regardless, ignoring the OC. Quentin & Eliot have a sexual encounter—instigated by Quentin, who thinks they are roleplaying—and then the OC gives up and gives Eliot his memories back.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments as always are much loved and appreciated!


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